The Sacred Lawns of Cambridge

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We drop Barbie off at the station. She's a civil celebrant, and she needs to go back to London for the day to officiate at the funeral of one of her daughter's friends. We visit Auntie Beth again, but unfortunately today she's unresponsive. She looks like she's trying to open her eyes, but just can't quite manage it. We tell her we'll come back again tomorrow, but we're not sure that she understands. Sally says that this is unfortunately far more typical than the brightness of yesterday.

We drive to the small town of Ely, which is the home of a large and apparently famous cathedral. The signs in the car park say that parking here is free, and that anyone who parks here should tell their friends about it. It seems to be working; the car park's full.

The Cathedral is massive, and seems to be a hive of activity, with cherry picker hoists set up outside most of its windows and a constant stream of people moving between the Cathedral and the city of vans and tents that's been set up around it. We try to go in but we're told that it's closed for the week because it's being used as a film set. This explains the cherry pickers, which are apparently being used as supports for the lighting. We ask the security guard what they're filming, but it seems that this is a closely guarded secret. Maybe they're worried about revealing the plot of some long running soap opera. We see quite a few people hanging around in period costumes, and wonder whether maybe they're filming Downton Abbey. Sally's very disappointed that she won't be able to show us inside and tells us that she'll be writing to the Bishop to complain. I tell her that she shouldn't worry too much. If we watch enough TV we're sure to see whatever they're filming sooner or later, and that will then become our tour. We must remember to watch Downton Abbey. This might be a bit of a challenge; I'm pretty sure we've never watched it before.

We stroll past a house where Oliver Cromwell lived, and continue down to the river through a large park full of large and very ancient looking trees. The river's full of boats that people use to tour the country's rivers and canals. They all look very slender which is apparently to enable them to pass each other on the narrow canals. I thought I read somewhere that they used to be pulled by horses. Sally says that although they've now got motors they still have to travel very slowly to minimise bank erosion.

We stop at an outdoor cafe next to the river for lunch. There are lots of wasps hanging around, much to the annoyance of the man at the next table. Every few minutes he stands up and runs away, waving his arms wildly at the wasps and yelling at them to go away. I'm not sure that this is a particularly effective approach. Eventually he manages to squash one of them with a glass. He seems very happy about this achievement. He yells to the other wasps that this should serve as a warning about what will happen if they try to come anywhere near him. I'm not sure this is all that effective either. If I was a wasp and I saw someone kill one of my friends, I think I'd probably work even harder at trying to disrupt their lunch, or worse.

We pass a sculpture in the park next to the cafe that looks like a series of large forks stuck in the ground in a circle. The sign next to it says that it's symbolic of spears that were used to catch eels in the river. I jokingly ask Sally if Ely is named after the eels, but apparently it is. I wonder why it isn't called Eely. At least they didn't call it Fishy.

Next stop is Cambridge where Sally takes us on a tour of some of the colleges. These are not the same as the purely residential colleges at my alma mater, Melbourne University; each one is a self contained university, where students both live and are taught.

We wander through the Chapel and manicured grass courtyards of St John's College which was founded way back in 1512. The River Cam meanders through the university grounds, and punting seems to be a very popular activity, particularly for tourists. We watch on as a flotilla of punts is pushed under the apparently famous Bridge of Sighs. Sally says that the punting is purely for recreation, and that there are no punting races between the colleges. I remember lots of punting going on when I was at university, but that variety didn't have a lot to do with boats.

We move on to King's College which was founded even earlier, in 1441, by King Henry VI. We go into its spectacular chapel which is apparently famous for its annual televised Christmas Eve service. There are lots of signs saying to keep off the grass, unless you're a fellow. Sally says that a fellow isn't just any bloke, but rather a senior person from the college. The grass must be very sensitive; perhaps it's been imported from France. I wonder if the college has to limit the number of fellows to protect the grass. It's even more manicured than the grass at St John's, and has been mown in perfect strips. The rules sound a bit elitist, and I can only assume that they've been put in place so that the fellows can go onto the grass to discuss secret fellow business away from the prying ears of the rank and file. We read that King's originally provided guaranteed places to students from Eton College, but it also undertook to provide a maximum of 70 places every year to students from poor families. This sounds like a very contradictory mixture of philosophies. I wonder how the very rich and privileged upper class students from Eton got on with their impoverished colleagues. It doesn't sound like you had much hope of getting in if you were unlucky enough to come from a middle class family.

Sally cooks us a very tasty dinner back in Bury, washed down with some Pims, which is apparently an English staple.

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